Closed Doors
by lieselmemingers
Summary: In truth, what happened behind closed doors was more complex and intimate than she'd ever imagined. A collection of smut!drabbles.
1. first

A/N: In short, a series of drabbles that focus on Katniss and Peeta's sex life. They may differ in length, but most will be short. Also, there won't be specific order but most of the time there will be a reference as to what point in their relationship the scene is set during. Here's the first two, enjoy! Warning: adult situations, strong sexual content. **  
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******Closed Doors.**

* * *

**_one: first._**

She was painfully aware that this would be difficult, but nothing compared to the cold truth of being right there in the moment, unable to switch off – unable _not_ to want it.

In truth, nothing could have prepared her for what it felt like to be with him. There was a chilly sort of nakedness that came from being observed as well as unclothed, and the vulnerability seemed to settle in her knees and make them weak. Peeta seemed too calm; too in control. She wondered if this was the right way to be seeing each other naked for the first time; standing a foot apart, not even attempting to help off with each others' clothes because they were coming off anyway and she didn't trust her fingers enough.

When they were both done undressing, Peeta stepped forward and surprised her by folding his arms around her waist in a firm hug. She let out the breath she'd been holding for what felt like hours.

The scars throbbed under, over; everywhere. Her hair was thin, her breasts weren't there. His shoulders were thin; his muscle all but gone. Her collarbone fit in the hollow under his, and their bellies couldn't manage to touch.

_I need you, _neither of them said, but it was smothered between their bodies, throbbing away, needing air and attention.

When she touched him a few minutes later, he gasped and winced, and he had to loosen her grip. She apologized. He tried to touch her in return, but she kept batting him away until it seemed like time for him to settle between her legs and push inside, but it hurt like a hot blade and she asked him to stop.

In the end, neither found a release and he lay quietly next to her until his need simply went away. She scrambled for refuge under the covers and let him join her, finding his hand under the covers and clutching it tightly, because she needed something to anchor her to the world; she was too vulnerable, too naked, too burnt out, and now she couldn't even do this.

"You were tense," Peeta murmured quietly into her ear. "I did my job wrong."

She didn't know what to say, so she stayed silent, holed up in the quiet in the hopes that it would protect her when she finally had to walk over the shattered remains of her expectations.

But they stayed uncomfortably naked together all night, and she remained uncomfortably fine about it, until it wasn't uncomfortable at all.


	2. visit

_**two: visit.**_

She'd only meant to visit for a few minutes.

The heat from the oven was sweltering, the door left open and abandoned, along with a couple of burnt loaves of bread on the floor.

Something crackled and snapped on the fire. The smell of burning wood. The feel of his blonde hair against the inside on her thighs. Her own hair could be on fire and she wouldn't care.

Sitting up a little, she felt the flour on her back, and looked down to observe him working at her with his lips and tongue. His eyes darted up to meet her own, and she groaned and leaned back; it was too much to see. He answered with his own, and pinned her down even tighter against the work surface. Somewhere far off, past the roaring in her ears, she heard the sound of the bakery door being opened, and the sound of footsteps walking towards the counter. And then, twice, the call of a man asking if there was anyone in, muffled through wood of the door.

Peeta lifted his head for a moment; lips glistening looked rumpled and disorientated, waiting to see if they'd go away. His heavily hooded eyes almost dared her to ask him to stop. She held fast, and said nothing, not even blinking until the front door opened again and the ill-timed customer left, along with Peeta's hesitation as he dove back to his task with renewed eagerness. Five years of this and he could still surprise her.

She cried out as his lips closed tightly and pulled, and her fingers found a soft lump of dough to bury into.

When she looked down at him again, skin glistening from the heat, still fully dressed for work, she couldn't help but finish hard, and he traced the clenching waves with his mouth until she was done.


	3. film

**_three: film._**

The offer came just before the two-year anniversary of the end of the war. It was sealed up in a silver envelope that Katniss couldn't help but touch over and over, because it felt so good against her fingers. It was Peeta who opened the letter. His eyebrows lifted, his lips fought against a smile and he tried to tuck the letter out of reach.

"What?" she demanded, scrambling for it.

"We've…" he paused to cough, "we've been invited to star in a film."

"A film?" she asked, confused.

She unfolded the letter.

"Oh."

They thought it best to ignore the letter, but two months later, on one of those rare television nights that they allowed themselves (an attempt to take feeble baby steps back into the world), something caught Peeta's eye. Her first instinct was to close her eyes; they were taking a virtual stroll through the channels for adults.

"Katniss! Katniss, open your eyes," Peeta laughed, but it sounded a little strained.

"Oh, that's-!"

The woman onscreen leaned back against the golden bedspread, moaning like no one could possibly hear her for miles. Her black braid fell backwards over her shoulder, landing on the bed. The blonde man at her breast licked a little harder.

"Well, that's just…" Katniss said.

"Yeah," Peeta greed vaguely.

She hid behind a cushion until she noticed Peeta was watching with peculiar fascination. She made use of her makeshift blind to hit him firmly around the head. He grinned, and pinned her beneath his body, his hair rumpled.

"We should be flattered," he murmured against her neck. "They're obviously desperate to see us do this."

His rough hands made their way under her shirt, and she gasped, finding it hard to resist. Peeta's eyes found the screen, and he laughed. Daring to look, Katniss found that his counter-part was fully undressed now, and proudly leaning his hips forward to show off something so large that she felt herself wince.

"It's nice that they think of me that way," Peeta giggled against her neck, and she couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter.

She sighed, noting his arousal against his thigh. "Is this seriously doing something for you?"

He shrugged, and his smile turned mischievous. A couple of minutes, and a couple of on-screen positions later, and the sounds coming from the speakers were unreal. She knew that ordinarily they were a quiet couple, but the noises the Capitol had them making sounded like feeding time at in the cattle-pen. Peeta didn't seem to mind, though, gently easing himself into her once she was ready.

"_Oh yeah, baby, you're so wet_," he teased in a decent imitation of the man on the screen.

She laughed and put a hand firmly over his mouth to prevent any more quips. He nipped at her hand gently, and she yelped and drew back. The man and woman on the screen were contorted into something that didn't look comfortable, but left nothing to the imagination in terms of anatomy, thrusting and bouncing. Katniss wondered if all the people in the Capitol had sex as though someone was watching. This felt different, though; the fullness of him inside and the light from the television on his hair. Her underwear still looped onto her ankle. She'd take this any day.

Peeta turned the television off.

Perhaps all of Panem still wondered what happened between them, in that way. But it was hers like nothing else was. The tiny details that made her stomach turn over in pleasure. The small sighs into her ear. His head on her chest afterward.

This wasn't for sale.


	4. hijacked

After all that had transpired; after all the hatred he'd have to fight through to get back to his love for her, it came as no surprise that he liked it rough sometimes.

He'd be quiet and thoughtful as night began to set in, and she'd know what was coming. She liked it; looked forward to it even. It excited a part of her that was buried but very, very real. Because even after the three years it took to get them to the stage where they could be this open with each other physically, she still hated herself a little. She still wanted penance.

But this was different. This fed her hunger in a way that made her want more.

He'd carry her up to bed, biting kisses at her neck. The short journey saw the flames grow in her stomach faster than when he was gentle and loving. This was far more bearable; this hunger for her flesh that had more to do with territory than it did with love.

Naked and panting in the dark, he bent her over the edge of the bed and bit a way up to the base of her neck. She fisted her hands into the familiar linen of their sheets, grounding herself.

"Tell me you want me," he growled low into her ear.

"I want you," she gasped. "Always."

"Only me," he continued.

"Only you."

He pushed into her without ceremony or warning, she bit back her gasp of pain and let the pleasure push through it. When she rested her forehead against the soft mattress, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her back up.

"Don't think about him," he snapped

"I'm not," she reassured him.

"Don't, don't, don't," he whispered against the back of her neck, and fucked her so hard the headboard crashes against the wall with every thrust.

Afterward, he was soft and loving as ever, loosening her hair and re-braiding it down her back. He ducked beneath the sheets to kiss the pink marks his fingers left on her hips. She wondered what he'd be without the hijacking.

She wondered if he still hated her, just a little, somewhere deep inside.


End file.
